


Take Me Away, From Not Feeling Strong Enough

by Talvenhenki



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:22:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26918065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talvenhenki/pseuds/Talvenhenki
Summary: Aramis has been coming home bruised and battered every day for the past week, and Porthos decides to find out why.
Relationships: Aramis | René d'Herblay/Porthos du Vallon
Comments: 16
Kudos: 38





	Take Me Away, From Not Feeling Strong Enough

**Author's Note:**

> I was feeling sad and decided I needed to write something to make myself feel better, so here: Aramis gets to cry his heart out while Porthos is being the loving Porthos we all know and love.

The front door opened and closed. Weary footsteps made their way inside, and a gym bag fell on the floor with a thud. Porthos looked up from his book to see a familiar slumped figure fighting to get his shoes off in the hallway.

Aramis was home.

With considerable effort, he finally managed to untie his shoes and straighten up. Porthos winced as he saw his husband’s beautiful face sporting a new bruise on the left cheek, a cut on the lip and another by the right eyebrow. Mumbling something that vaguely resembled a greeting, Aramis made his way into the bathroom to wash off the sweat from the exercise. Porthos shook his head, readying himself for the talk he needed to have with Aramis.

For the past week, Aramis had become quiet and moody, and he’d gone to the jeet kune do gym every evening after work. There he would proceed to get beaten up, not fighting back at all. Every evening, Porthos would treat the bruises, but when he asked for explanation, Aramis wouldn’t respond.

It had to stop.

When Aramis finally emerged from the bathroom, wearing one of Porthos’ T-shirts and a pair of jeans with a hole on the knee, Porthos motioned for him to come over to the sofa. Aramis obeyed, sitting down two feet away from Porthos, eyes dark.

“What’s going on?” Porthos asked, taking hold of Aramis’ hand. “I’m worried, Aramis. Whatever is going on, it’s not at all like you. I need you to tell me; has something happened? Why are you letting yourself get beaten up like this?”

Aramis closed his eyes and turned his face away from Porthos. He was breathing heavily through his nose, and Porthos was fairly certain that his jaw was trembling. When Porthos tried to comfort Aramis by placing his hand over Aramis’ shoulder, he flinched.

“Marsac passed away.”

Porthos gasped. Marsac had been a close friend of Aramis’ who had accompanied him to a trip to Spain five years ago on a private aircraft. The pilot had made a disastrous mistake as the plane had neared the Pyrenees, causing the plane to crash, killing most of the passengers. By the time the first responders had made it to the scene, only Aramis and Marsac had been alive, badly injured. Marsac had fallen in coma and Aramis had survived, but just barely.

“I’m so sorry”, Porthos breathed, “oh, Aramis, I’m so sorry.”

Aramis was now shaking, stubbornly facing the other way. When Porthos cupped Aramis’ cheek and guided him to face Porthos, a soft whimper escaped Aramis’ lips. Opening his eyes, tears began to roll down Aramis’ cheeks.

“I thought…I thought I could forget how much it hurt if I focused on another source of pain”, Aramis whispered, “but none of it helped. It just made me angrier at how weak I was! Had I been stronger, I could have saved someone, I know I could…”

A series of heartbroken sobs came out of Aramis as he leaned on Porthos for support. Porthos caught him in an embrace, rubbing his back. He leaned backwards so that both he and Aramis could straighten their legs, laying down on their sides.

The grief came in waves. Just as Porthos thought Aramis had finally calmed down, a new wave of sobs hit him. Eventually Aramis had to push himself upwards into a sitting position to gasp for air. Porthos scrambled up as well, wanting to hold Aramis as close as he could. He rocked Aramis from side to side as he cried out from all the pain.

“I’ve got you”, Porthos whispered, “I’ve got you.”

When Aramis eventually calmed down, he looked wretched. His eyes were red, and the tear tracks had mingled with the bruises, making his face a sorry sight. Porthos kissed his forehead and held him close for a moment.

“I’m gonna get you some water real quick”, Porthos said and placed a pillow on Aramis’ lap before standing up. Aramis grabbed it like the lifeline it was for him and closed his eyes.

When Porthos returned, Aramis had brought his feet on the sofa, leaning his forehead on his knees. He was still trembling weakly from the outburst. He hiccupped as Porthos sat down next to him, placing the glass of water on the coffee table, and scooping Aramis into another hug.

“Did you talk about this with your therapist?” Porthos asked softly. He was leaning his cheek on top of Aramis’ head, stroking his arm. “He might be able to help you with the grief if you do.”

“I skipped therapy this week”, Aramis confessed, his voice hollow. “I figured it couldn’t hurt since I’m the one paying for it anyway. I just…told him I was sick and went to the gym to get beaten up instead.”

“Oh, _Aramis_ ”, Porthos breathed, “you can’t do that to yourself. One of these days you might seriously injure yourself. I know it’s hard to accept help from others when you feel ashamed and weak, but I want you to know that I’ll always do anything I can to make you feel better. I will never think you’re a weak man because to me you’re anything but. Got it?”

Aramis nodded weakly.

“Good”, Porthos said, “now, you should drink some of that water while I make some sandwiches for us. Want some chocolate chip cookies for a light dessert?”

Aramis nodded again, this time with a little smile. “Some green tea?” he asked hopefully.

“You got it”, Porthos said, smiling, as he disappeared in the kitchen, only to re-emerge a moment later carrying a tray of sandwiches, chocolate chip cookies, and green tea. Aramis cleared the coffee table and soon he and Porthos got the long-awaited evening snack.

That night, Aramis would still feel some of the grief, but most of it would be replaced by the immense gratitude he felt for having Porthos by his side.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments spark joy!


End file.
